


Finally

by AShortWalkToDelinquency



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Bondage, Choking, Crying, Dom/sub, Face-Fucking, Forced Orgasm, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective JT Tarmel, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Spanking, Spit As Lube, Threats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:26:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29608020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AShortWalkToDelinquency/pseuds/AShortWalkToDelinquency
Summary: "I want this. Ineedthis. Please, sir." Malcolm's eyes plead louder than his voice ever could, and JT wonders once again what the hell happened to send Bright down this rabbit hole of self-hatred and...guilt? JT recognizes that look from his army days. From soldiers who couldn't cope with the lives they were forced to take.It makes him sick to see it on Bright's face now."You have ten minutes to get cleaned up when we get inside. Then I want you on your knees next to the bedroom door, eyes down. You'll stay there until I tell you otherwise. Don't fidget. Don't talk. Understood?"
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/JT Tarmel
Comments: 20
Kudos: 46





	1. So call me just another pretty face (who's been a bad, bad boy, so put me in my place)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends!
> 
> This takes place sometime between episode one and two of season two.
> 
> Most of the tags are for chapters two and three, I just wanted to warn ahead of time so no one was caught off guard.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

"What the fuck is wrong with you." JT doesn't even wait until he's rounded the ambulance before he's damn near shouting at Bright, his temper flaring like a wildfire. 

He's so over this bullshit.

Malcolm looks up at him from where he sits perched on the back of the ambulance, his head jerking up as JT walks around the corner. The kid looks terrible, and it has less to do with the gauze-covered gash across his chest than it does the underlying exhaustion that's painting his features. The smudges under his eyes have been getting progressively darker for weeks, highlighting the haunted look that he's been sporting for far too long. He's skinnier than normal, too. Like he hasn't been eating. And he didn't exactly have much excess weight to start with.

It's not like JT was oblivious to the signs. He's been keeping an eye on Bright's gradual decline, making himself available to talk — or whatever else Malcolm needs — but the little shit has been more closed off than usual, hiding inside himself in a way that he hasn't done since their first few cases together. He's been keeping whatever it is that's eating at him close to the vest this time. And it's destroying him.

JT is tired of sitting on the sidelines, waiting for Malcolm to come to him like he has in the past.

He's not gonna sit by and watch the kid slowly kill himself.

"Look. I'm sorry I took off after him alone," Malcolm says quietly, like he's too exhausted to be having this conversation. He tugs the blanket closer around him to hide the patch of gauze over his chest before he takes a weary breath and continues. "But he was going to get away. With his connections he would've been out of the city before sunrise and we never would've seen him again."

JT is so furious he can't even answer right away. He starts a quick pace behind the ambulance — back and forth, back and forth — scrubbing a hand over his beard the whole time. The repetitive movement helps to calm him enough that he can finally answer without wringing the kid's neck or screaming at him until his lungs run out of air. He halts his pacing and walks right up to Malcolm, jabbing him on the uninjured side of his chest with his pointer finger.

"Then you call for back-up." JT's voice comes out so low it's practically a growl and Malcolm's pupils blow wide in response. JT watches as Malcolm sucks in a sharp breath, his body shivering delightfully at the tone JT's taken with him.

It's been several months since they've done this, but JT recognizes the signs easily enough. Knows exactly what Malcolm needs.

And he's more than happy to provide it.

Especially if it means it might get Bright to slow down and take care of himself for a night (or, rather, let JT do that for him).

"Your life is worth more than the collar, man." A quick glance around them confirms that no one else is nearby, so his hand slides from Bright's chest up a little higher, wrapping around his throat and squeezing lightly, pulling Malcolm forward until their faces are only inches apart. "You pull this shit again and I'm firing you, understand?"

Malcolm's eyes widen at the threat, but the arousal is still there and JT understands what he needs to do.

"Do you need to go to the hospital?" JT asks, shoving Malcolm back and letting go abruptly, watching as he sways where he sits, his gaze going a little hazy from the simple touch and show of power.

Oh, it's going to be a breeze to take Malcolm down tonight, JT thinks as he waits for Malcolm's answer.

"Uh. No," Malcolm manages to spit out after a moment. "The paramedics stitched me up."

JT glares at Malcolm for a moment, unblinking, before he walks around the side of the ambulance, finding both medics treating their suspect, who is securely restrained to the stretcher. He catches the eye of the shorter woman, nodding in Bright's direction as he asks, "He good to go?"

"He'll need to keep the stitches dry and clean and I'd highly recommend a doctor's appointment in the next few days to ensure he doesn't get an infection, but yeah, he's good for the night."

Malcolm got lucky with the bus that showed up to the call. Paramedics aren't supposed to suture wounds, but this duo has been called to the aftereffects of enough of Malcolm Bright's brilliant plans that they make exceptions for the profiler, following a bit of a don't-ask-don't-tell policy when it comes to treating his wounds.

Any other night, this would have ended with a trip to the hospital for sure. Tonight, JT has other plans in mind.

"Thanks Amanda," JT calls out and then turns back to Malcolm, who's glaring at him, affronted that JT would confirm his story about being good enough to call it a night.

"You think I'm gonna trust your skinny ass?" JT says leaning into Malcolm's personal space and lowering his voice to something only Malcolm will hear. "Whatever it is that's weighing on you, it ends tonight."

He takes several steps back before calling out to Dani, asking for a word. She heads over immediately, eyeing Bright with a level of worry that JT knows all too well.

"Powell, do you think you can handle what needs to be done tonight? You can leave the paperwork for me to fill out in the morning." As the acting supervisor for Major Crimes while Gil is away on leave, JT has the authority to order her to do it, but he'd rather just ask. And judging by the knowing look on her face as her gaze darts between JT and Malcolm, she understands exactly why he's asking.

"Sure thing," she says simply. He knows she's noticed that Bright has been struggling lately, too. Knows she's just as worried as he is. "See you both tomorrow."

She gives Malcolm's arm a squeeze beneath the blanket and then turns back to the crime scene, overseeing that everything is processed accordingly and that their suspect is secure for transport to the hospital. JT knows he's leaving the investigation in very capable hands.

Waiting until she's out of earshot, JT silently surveys the scene until he finally turns back to Malcolm and orders, "My car. Now."

He doesn't miss the small shiver that rocks Malcolm's body as he turns away and marches to his car, knowing Malcolm will follow if he's on board for whatever JT has planned for them. It only takes a moment to reach his vehicle, but JT uses that time to quell the anger inside of him (and fear, too, if he's honest with himself), so by the time he's reaching out for the door handle, he's well in control of himself.

When he looks up to find Malcolm making his way to the passenger door, sheer anticipation written clear as day on every line of his face, on every muscle pulled taut in his body, he knows he'll be well in control of Bright soon, too.

The kid still has a blanket wrapped tightly around him as he lowers himself into the passenger seat, so as soon as JT is settled behind the wheel, he reaches across Malcolm's body to grab the seat belt from over his shoulder, lingering a moment as his body looms over Malcolm's smaller frame.

"The things I'm gonna do to you…" JT murmurs, snapping the buckle in place. With Malcolm's arms still wrapped around himself, keeping the blanket snug around his body, the seat belt does an adequate job of restraining him for the ride home, until JT can well and truly truss him up the way he wants.

Malcolm licks his lips, his eyes darting to JT's mouth as he makes the _promisethreat_ and JT internally curses the busy scene around them. There are too many cops, medics, witnesses, and bystanders milling about. Otherwise JT wouldn't even wait until they got home. He'd use the seat belt to wrap around Bright's wrists, maybe even his throat, and he'd start breaking him down right here. It wouldn't be the first time he'd railed the kid in his car.

"Promises, promises." The smart-assed words lose a bit of their impact with how breathy Malcolm sounds, but JT still refuses to let it slide. He grabs hold of the seat belt right above the buckle and pulls hard enough that the belt snaps to the end of its line, trapping Malcolm as both the shoulder and lap belts keep him in place, pulling hard over his torso.

"Really, bro? You want to start something now? Here?" JT looks pointedly out the window at the busy scene around them, letting the implied threat settle over Malcolm. JT wouldn't _actually_ start anything in front of all these people.

But Malcolm can't know that for sure.

Malcolm eyes JT warily, clearly aiming to use his profiling mumbo-jumbo to determine if it's an empty threat. It's a bit of a battle, but JT maintains unwavering eye contact the whole time, only looking away after Malcolm lowers his eyes and mutters "No, I don't."

Yanking the belt impossibly tighter, pinning Malcolm hard to the seat, JT leans in and whispers in his ear, "What was that?"

Malcolm's gasp shoots straight to his cock. So do his next words, rushed and breathy and so fucking sexy that JT rethinks his resolve to wait until they get home. 

"No, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir."

JT keeps him pinned a second longer and then releases his hold on the belt, letting Malcolm sag in relief as JT turns his attention back to the car, starting the engine and easing away from the curb. They drive in silence for a while, though JT keeps a close (but covert) eye on Malcolm the whole time, ensuring that he's not having any second thoughts about what's going to happen.

They're halfway to JT's apartment before Malcolm seems to realize where they're going. 

"We're going to your place?" Malcolm asks, surprised enough that the words slip out of his mouth without thought, and he scrambles to tack on a hasty, "Sir."

They usually do this at Malcolm's loft, so JT can understand the surprise. While Tally enjoys peeking in on their sessions, they can sometimes last the whole night, and Tally is so far along in her pregnancy that she needs the rest. That won't be an issue tonight.

"Tally is staying with her sister for a few nights. A girl's spa weekend before the baby is born," JT says softly, thinking of his beautiful wife, soft and full with their child, taking time for herself to relax and get pampered the way she deserves. A quick look at Malcolm shows the same soft smile pulling at his lips. 

"That's great," Malcolm says quietly. "She deserves it."

JT reaches over and gives Malcolm's thigh a light squeeze, an acknowledgement that JT understands Malcolm's affection for his wife. It's also one of the last gentle touches Malcolm will be receiving until they're done. Malcolm's shy smile followed by the quick duck of his head says that he understands the meaning behind the touch just fine.

Malcolm becomes jittery as the rest of the ride passes, his knee bouncing faster and faster as they get closer and closer to JT's place. It's not unusual — Malcolm always gets keyed up before they start, but even still, as soon as the car is parked, JT twists in his seat to fully face Malcolm.

"This what you want, Bright? I can still just take you home."

When Malcolm opens his mouth to answer right away, JT shoots him a glare that leaves no doubt that he fully expects Malcolm to think about his answer before he gives it. Malcolm's jaw snaps shut and he offers a small nod before truly considering it.

"I want this. I _need_ this. Please, sir." Malcolm's eyes plead louder than his voice ever could, and JT wonders once again what the hell happened to send Bright down this rabbit hole of self-hatred and...guilt? JT recognizes that look from his army days. From soldiers who couldn't cope with the lives they were forced to take.

It makes him sick to see it on Bright's face now.

"You have ten minutes to get cleaned up when we get inside. Then I want you on your knees next to the bedroom door, eyes down. You'll stay there until I tell you otherwise. Don't fidget. Don't talk. Understood?" 

Malcolm's eyes actually tear up at the words but he's quick to offer a, "Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

JT is determined to get to the bottom of whatever is tearing the kid apart, but he knows he's going to have to break him down completely before he can do that. Malcolm's never been good at letting people in and JT doesn't think that's going to change any time soon. It's fine, though. If it takes all night, so be it. He'll beat it out of him, if he needs to.

Because otherwise, he suspects that Malcolm's increasingly reckless behaviour is going to end up with him as their next victim on a slab in the morgue. And JT sure as fuck isn't going to allow that on his watch.

He leads Malcolm up to his apartment, closing and locking the door behind them as soon as they're in. "How's the knife wound? How careful do I need to be? And don't even think about lying to me."

"It's fine," Malcolm assures him with a small but genuine smile. "I promise. It wasn't that deep. Sir."

Malcolm waits silently for permission to begin as JT's gaze rakes over him, searching for signs of deceit and finding none. When JT gives him a brisk nod, Malcolm takes off at a quick step, heading down the hall and to the left. With a touch of pride, he notices that Malcolm doesn't close the door to the bathroom all the way, having long since learned that privacy is a privilege he needs to earn, and they both know that, tonight, he has a long way to go to earn _any_ privileges at all.

JT takes advantage of Malcolm's time in the bathroom to ready some supplies in the bedroom, dragging his toy chest out of the closet to set next to the bed. He's not entirely sure what he's going to need just yet, deciding to play it by ear depending on how bratty Malcolm is and how severe his knife wound truly was.

He tries not to focus too hard on how he felt when he got the call that Bright had been injured while pursuing their suspect. His adrenaline begins to surge all over again at the thought, and he refuses to begin their evening without a clear head. 

He changes into a pair of lounge pants and his NYPD t-shirt, knowing the way the thin material clings to his muscles is bound to get Malcolm worked up once he sees him. He heads to the kitchen as soon as he's done, pulling a couple of water bottles from the fridge, then he sits at the table, and waits.

He hears Malcolm exit the bathroom, hears him lower himself to the floor outside the bedroom, but he fully intends to make him wait. So he pulls out his phone and shoots a text to Tally.

_How's the girls weekend?_

A reply comes back almost immediately, and JT suspects that she's already settled in bed, passing the time before she goes to sleep.

_Wonderful and relaxing. How was work?_

He leans back in his chair, winding down as he fills her in.

_Okay. Bright pulled his usual bullshit and nearly got killed. He's fine. Gonna take him down, though._

The three little dots in the corner of his screen undulate for a moment before her response comes through. 

_Glad he's okay. Temper the rough stuff with some love, hon. That boy needs both of those in equal measure. I just bought a new tube of arnica cream. It's in the medicine cabinet. See if you can get him to stay the weekend. I'd feel better knowing neither of you are alone._

God, he loves this woman. He's not sure how he ended up married to someone so far above his station, but he's thankful for it every day.

_Will do. Thanks, hon. I love you._

_Love you, too. Now go rail that boy._

JT chuckles and closes the text thread, then begins scrolling through Twitter to pass the time. He waits a solid twenty minutes before he sets the phone down and picks up the bottles of water, then heads towards the bedroom.

As instructed, Malcolm is kneeling on the floor next to the bedroom door, sitting back on his feet with his hands splayed open on his thighs and his head bowed. Gloriously naked aside from the bandage just below his left collarbone, his cock already stands hard and proud between his legs and JT spares a thought to ponder if Malcolm was made for this. He can be such a good little sub, when he wants.

He can also be a right pain in JT's ass.

He watches Malcolm's body tense in anticipation as JT approaches, but JT just walks past him into the bedroom, setting down the bottles of water on the nightstand and pulling the bedding from the bed so only the fitted sheet is left. Only once he's happy with his preparations does he grab a pair of cuffs from the toy box and head back to the hall.

With one hand on Malcolm's shoulder, he forces him to bend forward and then takes hold of each of Malcolm's hands, one at a time, affixing a cuff to his left wrist and then his right. Once the well-loved black leather is firmly in place, he clips them together, trapping Malcolm's hands behind his back.

"Sit up," JT orders as soon as he's finished with his task. 

No sooner is Malcolm upright, his shoulders pulled back as he kneels, facing JT with wide, eager eyes, than JT is pushing the waistband of his pants down, his cock springing free in front of Malcolm's mouth.

"Snap if you need to safeword," JT says, his voice already gruff with arousal.

"Yes, Sir."

"Show me," JT demands, waiting for the sharp snap of Malcolm's fingers before he moves any further. As soon as the third snap dies away, JT straddles Malcolm's thighs with his feet and pushes Malcolm's head and shoulders against the wall behind him. "Now be good and take what I give you."

He grabs hold of his dick and lines it up with Malcolm's mouth, pushing in with no further warning. The head of his cock slides along Malcolm's soft palate before nudging the back of his throat and then pushing even further. He doesn't give Malcolm a chance to adjust. Just fucks into his mouth hard and fast, making his head bounce off the wall with each thrust of his hips.

Like this, Bright has no control. No way to pull back when he begins to choke on the cock that's slamming into his throat, cutting off his air flow for several seconds at a time as JT buries himself to the hilt and Malcolm's nose is pressed snug against his pubic bone, drooling onto JT's balls.

"Fuck. So pretty like this," JT huffs as he freezes in place, looking down at Malcolm's lips stretched wide, taking him so well. Tears stream from the corners of his eyes as he chokes and gags around JT's length. "Maybe this should be your job. Forget profiling. You were made for sucking cock, weren't you?"

He pulls out long enough for Malcolm to suck in a rasping breath that he coughs out as soon as it hits his lungs. It takes a moment for him to stop hacking, and his voice, when it comes, is rough and broken. 

"Yes, Sir." Malcolm pants, leaning his head back against the wall. "I was made for sucking cock."

JT can already tell that Bright's voice will be absolutely wrecked tomorrow. 

And as he pushes back into Malcolm's mouth, he idly wonders how much worse he can make it.


	2. The humiliation really gets me off (and I don't care if you come, just as long as you're on top)

JT finally pulls back when he starts to feel the tingle in his balls warning him that he's getting close. He has no intention of coming like this. No, he has much, much more in store for Malcolm.

When he finally steps back, the kid is basically jelly, swaying dangerously as he mindlessly chases after JT's cock with an open mouth. Tears, drool, and precum streak his face and he looks utterly debauched in a way that makes JT's cock throb.

"Fuck. Such a pretty little slut, aren't you?" JT runs a hand through Malcolm's hair, brushing it from his face. As Malcolm relaxes into the motion, though, JT grabs a fistful of strands and tugs back, forcing Malcolm to look up at him, taking in the dopey smile on his face as JT uses and manhandles him. "God, you love this, don't you? You're just a dirty fucking whore, hmm?"

"Yes, Sir."

JT can't hold back his grin, so he steps to the side and releases his hold on Malcolm, tossing him forward enough that Malcolm struggles to keep from falling face first on the floor with his hands still clipped behind his back.

While Malcolm is still gaining his balance, JT leans down and grabs the metal clasp connecting the cuffs on Malcolm's wrists, tugging them straight up. Malcolm yelps and pushes to his feet to ease the strain on his shoulders as JT hauls him up ruthlessly. He's left bent in half as JT refuses to ease his grip, holding Malcolm's arms uncomfortably high as he leads him into the bedroom.

The slight whimper that's falling from Malcolm's lips only spurs JT on, and he gives one last jerk to push Malcolm face first on the bed, waiting for the inevitable hiss as his wound hits the mattress.

He's not disappointed.

When Malcolm tries to shimmy back, JT stops him with a heavy hand on the middle of his back. Malcolm is bent over the side of the bed, his ass sticking out towards JT enticingly, and JT decides the opportunity is just too damn good to pass up. He slides his hands down to Malcolm's cheeks, spreading them apart and exposing the pink furled muscle that's hidden there.

JT doesn't waste any time. He spits on Malcolm's hole then rubs his thumb over the newly-wet muscle, massaging firmly. Malcolm moans at the touch and bucks back towards JT, silently begging for more as JT rubs. He adds more spit as he goes, eventually managing to press his thumb into Malcolm's body, running the digit along the first couple inches of Malcolm's tight little channel.

"Think I'll skip the lube tonight," JT says conversationally, grinning as Malcolm's muscles twitch around his thumb at the pronouncement. "I think that a spit fuck will do you good, don't you?"

"Yes, Sir," Malcolm moans, rocking against the bed, obviously trying to get some friction against his cock.

JT's having none of that.

"Oh, no. I don't think so," he says, yanking back on Malcolm's hips until he's bent in half, with only his chest and face pressed against the bed. His cock — leaking precum and so hard it's nearly purple at the head— lies abandoned and untouched between his legs. JT even kicks Malcolm's feet apart, just a little, to make sure that it doesn't end up rubbing against his thigh as he rocks his hips. "You'll be lucky if I let you come at all tonight."

JT leans down and spits on his hole again, pushing it inside of Malcolm with his thumb before dropping to one knee behind him. 

"After the shit you pulled today, you'll be lucky if I let you come ever again. Maybe I'll cage up that pretty little cock of yours, keep you locked up until you think you're gonna burst."

He moves in closer as he speaks, letting his warm breath dust over the twitching furl. Watching the way it winks at him. Waiting. All while Malcolm moans and writhes beneath his hands.

"And I promise you, Bright, if you come without my permission, that pesky little knife wound will be the least of your problems."

His tongue finds Malcolm's hole, needy and wanting and so very warm as he swirls it around the muscle and dips inside of Malcolm's body, lapping up the musky taste of the man he knows inside and out. Which means he knows the tells of Malcolm's body. Knows when he's _thisclose_ to coming. So he reaches between Bright's legs and grabs hold of the base of his cock, squeezing hard enough to draw a startled gasp from Malcolm as he effectively staves off his orgasm.

"Fuck. JT. Please," Malcolm begs. His entire body is shaking, quivering beneath JT's hands. "Sir. Please."

JT doesn't stop. Doesn't so much as acknowledge Malcolm's pleas. Instead, he keeps his hand wrapped around Bright's cock as he buries his face between Malcolm's cheeks and starts to work him hard and fast. He wants to stretch him, just a little (not too much, because he still wants it to burn when he finally fucks into him), but mostly he wants him nice and wet.

So his tongue darts in and out of Malcolm's body, stopping only to spit into him over and over again, keeping Bright locked in place and giving him no relief.

"No," JT says, pulling back to scrape his beard over Malcolm's ass cheeks as he talks, making him moan and whine for more. "You can keep begging, but the answer is no. Can you tell me why that is?"

JT halts all movement, even letting go of Malcolm's cock to grab hold of his hips and completely arrest any hint of motion. He waits like that until Malcolm finally answers.

"Because I don't deserve to come." There's an acceptance beneath the desperation in Malcolm's voice that makes JT wonder what exactly he thinks he's being punished for. "Because I was bad."

When Malcolm doesn't offer any more, JT leans back in and starts to tongue at his rim again, slow, swirling movements that are meant to temper his next words.

"That's right. You took off without back-up. Again," JT bites the globe of Malcolm's left ass cheek, hard enough to leave a mark, but not so hard as to break the skin. Malcolm cries out but stays impressively still. "You've been doing that a lot lately. Chasing danger. Like you want to get hurt. Like you're hoping one of these suspects gets lucky and you don't make it out at all."

If JT thought Malcolm was doing an impressive job staying still a moment ago, he's shown just how motionless Malcolm can be as he freezes in place at JT's words. Even his ragged and uneven breaths are cut off.

JT presses on.

"You're punishing yourself, Bright. Why?" JT waits, but Malcolm is silent. He didn't actually expect Malcolm to open up, especially not so soon, but it was worth a shot. He'll try again once Malcolm is a little more pliant. "It's my job to punish you, Bright. Not yours. I'm gonna make you remember that."

The slap that lands on Malcolm's ass rings through the room, just a second before his shout. JT gives him no time to adjust, bringing the strength of his hand down over and over, alternating between left and right cheek until Malcolm's skin is blazing red and warm to the touch and Malcolm is crying and gasping for breath on the bed.

"Who punishes you, Bright?" JT asks, giving Malcolm a shove so he tips onto the bed, easing the strain on his shaking legs. Malcolm's struggling to breathe around the half-sobs that rack his body, so JT gives him a moment to get himself under control before he asks again. "Who punishes you, Bright?"

Malcolm's face, currently buried in the mattress, tips to the side, enough that he can answer and be heard clearly. 

"You do, Sir." Malcolm's voice comes out steadier than JT had expected. There's an edge of steel behind it that screams that Malcolm has no intention of going down easily. 

Apparently this is going to be more of a challenge than JT was expecting.

"That's right. I do. We just need to make you remember that," JT says, sliding his hands up Malcolm's thighs. When he gets to the red-hot skin of Malcolm's ass, he gives a squeeze, just to draw a hiss from Malcolm. But right as he's about to lean in and eat his ass a little more, Malcolm's voice floats to him, slightly muffled from where he's half buried in the bed once again.

"You're gonna have to make it more memorable, then." He waits a beat before adding the honorific, dripping with sarcasm, " _Sir_."

JT's eyebrows nearly hit his hairline. Bright has a bratty streak a mile wide but he rarely ever backtalks outright. The fact that he does now is a clear indicator that Malcolm needs it a little harder than usual tonight. And JT is happy to oblige.

"Oh yeah? I think we can arrange that." JT says, reaching into his toy box and pulling out two leather straps. Malcolm is surprisingly pliant as JT flips him over on the bed, though he does let out a gasp as the raw skin of his ass hits the sheets beneath him. Perching one knee on the bed, JT leans in with one of the straps and maneuvers Bright exactly how he wants him. In no time at all, he's got Malcolm's knee bent, enough that Malcolm's foot is pressed up against his ass, his calf tucked tight against his thigh. JT wraps the leather in a snug loop around Malcolm's thigh and ankle, keeping his leg completely pinned in place. Then he repeats the action with his other leg.

While Malcolm is able to drop his legs open like this, any other movement is completely restricted. And with his hands still cuffed together beneath his back, he's almost completely helpless.

Just how JT wants him.

Malcolm looks up at him with an expression caught somewhere between bliss and determination, like he's purposely keeping himself from falling any further, keeping himself from slipping into subspace. JT hasn't quite worked out _why_ , but he certainly plans to figure it out because Malcolm is obviously angling for a beat down. 

JT has no intentions of giving him what he wants. 

He fully intends to give him what he needs, though.

A quick rummage through his toy box rewards him with a prostate massager and masturbation sleeve, and after a second's hesitation, a ball gag and hand alarm as well. He keeps them well out of Malcolm's sight until he's ready, then he turns back to the bed and dumps his loot onto the mattress beside Malcolm.

"Wait, what?" Malcolm asks as his eyebrows draw in tight, his gaze darting between JT and the toys next to him. "JT, what—"

"Shut the fuck up," JT says calmly, feeling a surge of pride when Malcolm's mouth snaps closed. "You don't get a say in this. And since you seem to be confused about that, we're gonna start with this." JT picks up the ball gag and crawls on the mattress next to Malcolm, who is glaring daggers at him. He pauses with the gag about an inch from Malcolm's mouth, though, his expression softens the smallest amount as he asks, "Do you need to safeword?"

Malcolm's glare becomes infinitely more intense, but his safeword never passes his lips, so JT moves forward, roughly shoving the ball in his mouth and buckling the strap around his head. Once he knows he won't be forced to listen to Malcolm's protests or attempted mind games, he nudges Malcolm onto his side with a none too gentle hand. 

"If you need to stop, use the alarm." He tucks the alarm into Malcolm's hand, and wraps his fingers gently around the small black box, waiting a moment to make sure Malcolm has a good hold on it before harshly flipping him onto his back once again.

After that, he pays no mind to Malcolm's reactions at all. JT crawls off the mattress and stands at the side of the bed, looking down at Bright, spread out and entirely at his mercy, his legs already spread open just from the way they're strapped down. And fuck if the kid isn't just absolutely perfect like this.

After drinking in his fill of watching Bright squirm and glare at him, he grabs the prostate massager from beside Malcolm's hip. He debates a moment and, despite his earlier promises about a spit fuck, decides to use a small amount of lube for the toy, slicking it up quickly. He fully intends to make things uncomfortable for Malcolm later, but right now, he plans to use a whole different form of punishment.

He grabs hold of the strap on Malcolm's right leg to keep him from squirming away and, without any warning, thrusts the prostate massager deep inside of him, flicking it on as he goes. 

Malcolm keens behind the ball gag, his head flying back as JT unerringly finds his prostate and holds the toy directly against it. He knows it's not going to take much (Malcolm was so damn close just from JT fucking his face earlier, not to mention the rim job) and sure enough, after only a moment or two, Malcolm is coming, _hard_ , all over his belly, shooting his load as far up as his chin.

The muscles through Malcolm's body, head to toe, tense and tremble as he rides out his orgasm, but then downright jerk when he starts to come down and JT doesn't remove the massager.

He _does_ turn the vibrations down a notch and lets go of his firm hold on the toy, letting it nestle naturally in Malcolm's ass. Keeping an unyielding hold on the strap, JT reaches out for the masturbation sleeve, tightening his grip as Malcolm begins to buck and grunt on the bed, trying to knock the toy from his ass.

"What, you thought a little bit of lip was gonna get you the beating you were hoping for?" JT asks, curious about how Malcolm will react when JT already knows it's the truth. Malcolm freezes for a fraction of a second, his eyes going wide before he starts to buck again.

As always, the skinny little shit's strength takes JT by surprise. Even with his legs tightly and awkwardly restrained and his hands cuffed behind his back, Malcolm nearly manages to throw himself off the bed. JT catches him before he can toss his body any closer to the edge, hauling him up with both arms and tossing him down in the middle of the bed, this time laying properly with his head on the pillows.

Unwilling to risk another breakaway, JT climbs onto the mattress and shuffles over to Malcolm, tossing one leg over his waist so that he's straddling Malcolm's torso, easily keeping him down with the bulk of his weight. Facing the foot of the bed, he sits on Malcolm's chest, just below the knife wound as he turns his attention to toys.

Malcolm's shouts and the way he jerks and writhes on the bed beneath him does little more than feed JT's desire, his cock growing obscenely hard in his lounge pants. The struggle successfully dislodged the prostate massager, but JT is quick to ram it back inside of him, turning the vibrations up a few notches as retaliation for the unexpected fight.

Malcolm howls, arching his back as best he can beneath the bulk of JT's weight, but JT mearly holds the massager in place with one hand and reaches for the masturbation sleeve with the other.

The urgent but unintelligible grunts coming from Malcolm spill into a long, keening cry as JT slips the sleeve over Malcolm's already sensitive and spent cock and starts working it up and down at a quick, steady pace.

"You seem to have forgotten who's in charge here, bro. And I can tell you that it sure as fuck isn't you. Whatever it is that you think you deserve to be punished for, you're gonna have to fess up to before you get a beating for it."

It's less than a minute before Malcolm is coming again, this time spurting all over JT's pants as he continues to jack him off until Malcolm's shouts turn silent, unable to suck in the air he needs around the overloaded sensations in his body.

JT halts his hand, giving Malcolm just enough time to suck a ragged breath through his nose before he starts to stroke again, this time prepared for the wild bucking beneath him as pleasure teeters into pain for Malcolm as his sensitive nerves are ruthlessly stimulated.

"Thought you would've seen this coming, Profiler," JT raises his voice to be heard over Malcolm's sobs, "Thought you would've known I'd only punish you for the things I know about. Like nearly getting killed chasing after a psychotic murderer. Alone."

Never slowing his hand, JT looks over his shoulder to find Malcolm's eyes squeezed tight, tears leaking down the sides of his face as he thrashes and tries to pull away. JT can tell he's close — so close — to giving in, but he's fighting it still.

So he pulls out all the stops.

"Guess you're not much of a profiler then, are you? Much better as a fuck toy," JT jerks him off faster as he talks, knowing exactly what Malcolm needs to hear. "Maybe I'll just keep you here as my personal little cumdump, hmm? Use you like the whore you are and toss you aside when I'm done?"

JT would be shocked if he can wring another orgasm out of Malcolm so soon, but then, the kid is nothing if not unpredictable. He gives him a short reprieve from the sleeve, just long enough to switch the prostate massager to its highest setting, giving a few thrusts in and out of his ass before shoving it back in and holding it hard against his sweet spot with one hand and moving his other hand back to work the sleeve with purpose.

Sometimes, JT knows, Malcolm needs to be praised (the kid's praise kink is so obvious that JT thinks he might as well have a t-shirt made announcing it). But sometimes — on nights like tonight — JT knows that a little bit of degradation, a little bit of humiliation, will go a whole lot further.

"That's really all you're good for, isn't it? A warm hole to use." JT can feel the change in Malcolm's movements as he speaks. "Maybe I'll set up a webcam, keep it trained on you while you're pinned to a fucking machine. I can set up a live feed in the conference room at the precinct. Let the other cops watch you take it over and over. I bet Dani and Gil would love a front row seat. See what a little whore you are."

There isn't much come left, just a dribble that spurts onto Malcolm's belly, but JT can _feel_ the orgasm course through him.

And as the orgasm subsides, JT gets what he's been working towards.

Malcolm turns boneless, his entire body melting into the bed. 

Finally.


	3. You can fuck with my head, leave marks on my neck (just as long as I'm tied to your bed)

JT pulls the massager from Malcolm's ass, flicking it off as he tosses it to the end of the bed to deal with later. They definitely won't be needing it again tonight. Once the toy is removed — once the vibrations finally cease — Malcolm somehow becomes even more pliable beneath him, and a warmth blossoms deep inside of JT's chest, proud to have gotten him to that point.

He's fucking beautiful like this.

Focussing on the task at hand, he gives Malcolm's thigh a light stroke, a preemptive apology for what he's about to do. At this point, JT doesn't exactly want to keep overstimulating him, but the sleeve needs to come off of Malcolm's cock, sooner rather than later.

Malcolm whimpers as the sleeve is removed, but JT is quick about it, tossing it next to the prostate massager as he climbs off of Malcolm.

"Shh, you're okay," JT murmurs, leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to Malcolm's forehead as he lays there, perfectly obedient and docile in a way that JT suspects very few people have ever seen from the high-energy man. He knows the gag is superfluous at this point (Malcolm may actually be physically incapable of speech right now, often becoming non-verbal when he reaches subspace), so he unstraps it and pulls the ball from Malcolm's mouth with gentle hands. When Malcolm's jaw remains hanging open, JT grasps it lightly, shifting it left and right in tiny motions before closing it for him. "You're doing so good for me, man."

Malcolm practically purrs at the praise and JT can't help but chuckle as he rolls Malcolm back onto his side and removes the clasp from between his cuffs, allowing his hands to fall free at his sides. He's careful rolling him back, giving his arms a chance to adjust before he moves him any further, not wanting to cause him any pain just yet. Malcolm gives up the alarm without protest and it joins the ball gag on the nightstand, forgotten as soon as it's left JT's fingers.

"I'm gonna fuck you now, Bright," JT says as he lightly kneads at Malcolm's shoulders, making sure they're warmed up and ready to move before he raises Malcolm's arms above his head. The straps are already in place, ready to be pulled out from the corners of the mattress, and it's no trouble at all to clip a strap to each cuff, pulling Malcolm's arms out towards the top corners of the bed, pinning him tightly in place. "I don't care if you come now. I don't care if you want it. You just need to lay back and take it."

There's a dopey, blissed-out cast to Malcolm's features and JT isn't sure for a moment if Malcolm's even registered his words. But after a few sluggish blinks, Malcolm nods his head, letting JT know that he's still on board.

He's sure Malcolm's legs must be terribly uncomfortable at this point, but JT likes the looks of him like this, trussed up and bared for JT's use, so he decides to leave him like that for just a little longer. He crawls down between Malcolm's legs, having every intention to fucking pound him, but the sight that greets him is too good to pass up.

Malcolm, tied up and euphoric, with his puffy rim and his spent dick lying limp on his come-covered belly. He's downright delectable. JT's cock gives an eager twitch at the sight, but there's something he needs to do before claiming his prize. Something to commemorate the occasion.

"Hang tight," JT says, stroking his thumb over Malcolm's entrance once, twice, before climbing off the mattress and padding to the kitchen to grab his phone from the table. He shucks his t-shirt as he's walking back down the hall to the bedroom, and his pants follow soon after, kicked off at the side of the bed.

And he doesn't waste any time.As soon as he's settled back between Malcolm's spread legs, he unlocks his phone and pulls up the camera.

"Say cheese," JT grins as he snaps pictures from various angles. They'll go in a secure folder on his phone for him and Tally to look at later (he knows from experience that it's a surefire way to get his wife in the mood), but as a flush sweeps over Malcolm's cheeks and chest, JT decides to torment him just a little. Because he's beautiful when he's thoroughly wrecked. "Hmm, such a pretty little slut. Maybe I'll share these with the team. Let them see how much you like being used."

He takes one of the pictures — a body shot with no hint of Malcolm's face, as per their rules — and sends it to Tally, making sure Malcolm hears the telltale woosh of a message being sent from his phone.

"There. Now Gil and Dani know just what you're good for."

Malcolm whines and shakes his head, too far gone for actual words, but JT is quick to lean forward and wrap a hand tight around his throat, cutting off the plaintive cry and his air all at once.

"You seem to be under the mistaken impression that what you want matters. It doesn't," JT says harshly, leaning in enough that his breath washes warm over Malcolm's face. " _You_ don't matter. You're a cumdump. Nothing more."

JT emphasizes that point by reaching between their bodies and lining his cock up with Malcolm's hole. He eases the pressure on Malcolm's windpipe enough for him to take a gasping breath, and then he pushes back down while pushing into his body, forcing Malcolm's muscles open with his impressively thick cock.

If Malcolm could breathe, JT suspects he'd be screaming. The lube from the toy is keeping Malcolm from tearing at the intrusion, but it's nowhere near enough to make the initial breach comfortable for him. 

"Fuck," JT groans as he bottoms out, only letting go of Malcolm's throat when his balls tuck up against Malcolm's body. Malcolm coughs and chokes on the breath he sucks in, then lets out a piteous moan once he can breathe again; a moan that JT doesn't even deign to acknowledge. "Tight, for a whore."

The urge to thrust is almost overwhelming and JT needs to grit his teeth to hold back, carefully watching Malcolm's face for the signs of strain to ease before he moves. It takes a minute, but eventually the tears that have been trickling down the sides of Malcolm's face begin to slow, the body beneath JT relaxing in tiny increments. Only then does he start to move.

He plants his hands on the mattress on either side of Malcolm's chest and shuffles his knees forward to bracket Malcolm's hips, and then he starts to thrust. Slow, but firm.

And it's fucking glorious.

Bright is hot and tight and making the most delicious sounds as JT fucks into him — hisses and moans and sighs that shoot right to JT's cock and make his hips jerk despite his best intentions to draw this out.

And the more he moves, the more he wants to pull Bright into him and keep him safe and protected from whatever it is that's been making him so damn reckless lately. Because when Malcolm lays there like this, vulnerable and so willingly at JT's mercy, something fiercely protective sparks to life inside of JT, arousing his natural instincts to safeguard the man from the demons that are so obviously haunting him.

Never stopping the steady slide in and out of Malcolm's body, JT pushes himself upright, undoing the strap on Malcolm's left leg and then his right, supporting each leg as it flops to the bed at the loss of support.

Somehow, though, it just makes Malcolm seem more defenceless, with his legs splayed wide over JT's powerful thighs, his body on full display.

"Jesus Christ," JT groans before leaning back in, capturing Malcolm's lips in a bruising kiss that has him teetering dangerously close to orgasm himself as he feels Malcolm accept his questing tongue so easily. JT knows he's not going to last, not as long as he'd hoped, anyways. Fucking Malcolm's face earlier had primed him to blow and now that Malcolm's muscles are clenching around his cock, it's sending him spiralling towards his release.

As he pulls back and picks up the pace, he can feel the sweat beading on his forehead, on his back. His breathing turns ragged, punctuated by groans that grow louder and louder as he slaps up against Malcolm's body, perfectly complimenting the myriad noises that are spilling from Malcolm's lips.

As always, their bodies move in complete harmony. Malcolm takes him like he was born to have JT's cock inside of him, and suddenly, despite telling Malcolm that he doesn't care if he comes, JT wants nothing more than to make Malcolm come one more time. Wants to feel his body contract around him as he fucks into him.

JT pulls back once again, but this time he takes hold of Malcolm's hips and drags him up into his lap, pulling his arms as tight as they can go against the restraints as he positions Malcolm so he can buck up hard and fast into his already abused hole.

"Think you can come for me, Bright? One more time," JT grunts, fingers squeezing so tight around Malcolm's hips that he's guaranteed to have bruises come morning. The fact that Malcolm will wear them proudly, strutting around naked to make sure JT sees his handiwork just adds to the pleasure that is already pooling low in JT's belly.

Malcolm moans, low and long, and JT can tell from the sound alone that Malcolm is unsure about coming again, unsure if his body can possibly reach orgasm one last time.

"Come on," JT huffs, his hips pistoning as hard as he can manage. Hard enough that he's slamming into Malcolm's battered prostate, which is getting the kid miraculously hard again, blood filling his overworked cock where it bounces on his stomach. "Come on my cock."

Malcolm's hands wrap around the straps keeping him fastened to the bed, holding so tight that his knuckles turn white as he rides out the almost violent fucking, his back arching on the bed.

And as the tiniest pearl of precum beads on the tip of Malcolm's cock, JT thinks that he might just be able to do it. 

"Fuck. Yes. Yes!" JT shouts, hardly able to hold back. He's so fucking close but he wants Malcolm to tip over with him. He can barely form words himself at this point, knows he won't be able to talk Malcolm through it with name calling or dirty talk.

Which leaves him one last option.

He leans forward, letting go of Bright's hip with his right hand so he can reach up and lay the heel of his hand over the strip of gauze on Malcolm's chest. He waits for about half a dozen thrusts, giving Malcolm a chance to safeword if needed, but Malcolm just looks at him with a wide-eyed lust that JT can practically _feel_.

So he pushes down, leaning into it as he continues pumping his hips.

Malcolm comes with a shattered scream, and JT finally lets go of his own control, coming hard inside of Malcolm with a shout of his own.

JT pulls his hand back before he does anything else, keeping a steady eye on the gauze as he sits back on his feet, watching for blood as his chest heaves while he works to catch his breath. It takes a few minutes before he's ready to even attempt to move.

He starts by pulling his softening cock from Malcolm's puffy hole, allowing himself just a moment to admire the way his seed spills from Malcolm's body, but then quickly climbs up the bed until he can reach the cuffs on Malcolm's wrists. He unclips Malcolm from the straps first, then makes quick work of removing the supple leather cuffs. 

With Malcolm's arms freed from the restraints, JT begins a slow check of the man's body from head to toe, gentle hands massaging as he goes to ensure proper blood flow and no hidden injuries. Malcolm leans into the touch, his eyes closed and his body relaxed, only moving when JT maneuvers his body this way and that.

Satisfied that Malcolm is safe and happy, JT grabs a light blanket from the end of the bed and covers them both up, tucking Malcolm's body up against his own with a hand over his waist, pulling him in close until Malcolm's forehead is tucked against JT's chest, just how he knows the kid likes it.

He knows from past experience that it's going to take some time before Malcolm is ready to move, or even speak, so he settles himself in, content to just hold him until he comes back to himself. 

It takes longer than usual for Bright to stir. JT uses the time to card a hand through Malcolm's hair, gently massaging his scalp as he does, all while his other hand draws meandering shapes on Malcolm's back, tracing along his spine. He maintains the contact to keep Malcolm grounded, to keep him from floating too far away, but also, after a day like today, he does it to remind himself that Malcolm is safe.

"You scared the hell out of me today," JT whispers into Malcolm's hair. He's not even sure if Malcolm is present enough to understand him just yet, but saying the words out loud helps to ease the pressure that was building inside of him. "We can't keep going like this. _You_ can't keep going like this."

Malcolm doesn't respond but his muscles pull a little tighter and JT suspects that he's listening. That maybe, for a change, he actually _hears_ him.

"Ever since the night things came to a head with Endicott, you've been more...Bright...than usual. I know Gil getting stabbed, nearly dying, really messed you up, but it feels like more than that." He holds Malcolm closer as a fine tremor begins to shake his body, his touch becoming even gentler. "Shh, it's okay. You're okay."

JT waits until the tremors begin to subside before he pushes on. The last thing he wants to do is affect his comedown, but they need to work through what's been happening and Bright is especially receptive when he's like this.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" JT asks, unsurprised when he gets no answer in return. "Look, we're all worried about you, Bright. You keep chasing after danger like you don't care what happens to you. Like it doesn't matter if you die. But _I_ care what happens to you, bro. It matters to me."

A quiet sniffle tells him that Malcolm is definitely listening, and JT prays to God and every saint he can remember that he's getting through.

"Whatever it is, we can get past it. Let me help you."

There's a moment of silence, where JT doesn't even dare to breathe before the whispered answer floats his way, muffled from how Malcolm's face is buried in JT's broad chest.

"I can't tell you."

It's not the answer JT was hoping for, but the fact that Malcolm acknowledged there was a problem at all is a step in the right direction. JT drops a soft kiss on the top of his head to let him know that he's not angry about Malcolm's refusal to open up about whatever it is, but he keeps quiet, hoping against hope that Malcolm will fill the silence.

Surprisingly, it works.

"It's not just about me. I can't, JT. I just...can't," Malcolm says, his voice gaining strength as he speaks. "But. You're right. I've been careless. And I'm sorry."

JT shifts them in the bed, keeping both hands on Malcolm as he pulls back, needing to look him in the eye. Needing to make sure he understands.

"I get it, man. Not your secret to share. But it's eating at you, and it's not healthy." JT speaks calmly, knowing Malcolm's always a little raw after a session. "So. I'm here to talk whenever you're ready. But in the meantime, if you need help getting those feelings under control, you gotta promise to come to me instead of risking your life in the field."

Malcolm looks at him with glassy, tear-filled eyes that make JT's heart twinge uncomfortably in his chest and gives a hesitant nod.

"I need to hear you say the words, Bright."

Malcolm bites down on his lip before he steels himself, a glint of his usual fire appearing in his eyes as he says, "I promise. I'll try to be less reckless."

Malcolm lies. Fairly regularly. But right now, JT believes he's telling the truth. He doesn't expect Bright's behaviour to change completely — the man had no self-preservation instincts long before whatever _this_ is took hold — but he does think that Bright will stop actively courting danger.

And that's more than he could've hoped for.

He slides a hand to Malcolm's face, cupping his jaw and lightly tracing a perfect cheekbone with his thumb, and then leans in to press their lips together. It's soft and loving and JT pours everything that he's feeling into it in hopes that Malcolm will understand just how much that promise means to him.

"Thank you," JT murmurs as he pulls back, and then leans in for one more quick peck. "You ready to get cleaned up?"

Malcolm huffs but nods. JT knows he'd be more than happy to stay coated in come all night if JT let him, but cleaning him, caring for him, is an important part of their ritual. It isn't long before they're in the shower together, Malcolm swaying slightly under the hot stream of water as JT gently soaps him up, cleansing every inch of his skin with a delicate touch. He gives himself a perfunctory wash down as well and then he's drying them both off and leading a half-asleep Malcolm back to the bedroom.

In a matter of minutes, they're curled up beneath the thick duvet, with JT spooning up behind Malcolm, strong arms performing the duty of Malcolm's usual nighttime restraints.

Before Malcolm has a chance to drift off completely, JT asks, "Think you can stay for the weekend?" Now more than ever, he's reluctant to send Bright home, alone with his thoughts. 

"Mmm. I'd like that," Malcolm says sleepily, nestling back against JT. "Besides. I was a bad boy and came without permission. Pretty sure I still need to be punished for that."

JT grins against Malcolm's neck, nipping lightly at the skin there.

"Oh, you're definitely gonna pay for that," JT chuckles, already forming a plan for just how Malcolm will be making up for his transgression. He sees a beating in the kid's future. Maybe a flogging, too. Definitely a cock cage.

Malcolm's answer comes mumbled as sleep comes to claim him, but JT can still hear the smile in his words. "I can't wait."

Neither can JT.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter titles are taken from the J Englishman song Abused, which is totally what made me write this in the first place ❤


End file.
